


Coffee Shops, Gumdrops, Fashion, Tattoos, and the Boy with Skin in His Teeth

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Finn, Flirting, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Meddling, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pet Names, Polyamory, Rating May Change, also finn is a mess bye, brawler dean, candymaker roman, fashion designer mike, im a sappy bitch, lmao i have no clue what im doing, shoutout to city for helping me ily ur a gr8 datemate, tattoo artist seth, the concept of seth being a snob abt coffee is gr8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-01 22:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14530593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: “Keep the change, Sugar.” He says with a wink. Finn blushes bright red, and then he’s gone.





	1. The Boy with Skin in His Teeth

Working at the Coffee Club was enjoyable. Days are slow more often than not. The shop is small, buried between a bookstore and a vintage clothing store that always smells of mothballs. They’re not in the busy part of town; hell, they’re barely in town at all. The shop is nestled deep between the buildings, the fire escape on the front of the building almost obscuring the sign.

The interior was all weathered wood, overstuffed couches, bean bags, round tables, soft lamplight. There were a few stools and higher tables, and plenty of outlets. A bookcase covered one wall, all the books supplied by the library next door. There was a display case that took up part of the counter, filled with fresh-baked treats.

Finn enjoys working there. He had opened a coffee shop while he lived in Japan with a few friends, and when he moved to the states, he decided to continue what he had quickly learned was his passion. He runs the shop with his close friends, including the two Americans he had worked with in Japan.

It starts on a day that, other than the weather, was unremarkable. It was pouring rain, which usually put a damper on already slow business. Finn’s sitting behind the counter, joking around with Bayley, one of the girls that works at the shop. She runs the “bakery”, meaning she comes in early to bake the pastries and treats that fill the display case. 

He’s in the middle of telling a story from his time in Mexico when the bell above the door jingles, and the door slams open. 

He looks up, startled by the sudden noise and the brief roar of the rain. There’s a man standing just inside the doorway, shivering something fierce. He’s soaking wet, the rain plastering his strawberry blonde hair to his forehead and his grey shirt to his chest. He’s wearing a leather jacket and torn jeans with stained cuffs, as well as heavy boots that thud against the wood floor. His eyes are hard and bruised, marked by a cut under his eyebrow and a fading black eye, but his lips are smiling, cheeks round and full and marked by dimples. He’s tall, much taller than Finn is, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist.

The man walks over to the counter, the thud of his steps accompanied by the wet squelch of water. He leans his hip against the counter, fumbling as he looks for his wallet. “Can I please get the biggest, hottest black coffee  with as many espresso shots as you can legally give me?” He asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His eyes are a startling crystal blue that seems to almost glow in the low lamplight.

Finn laughs a little. “Coming right up. For here or to go?” He asks, setting one hand on the takeout cups and one on the chipped cherry red mugs under the counter.

“Here. No way I’m gettin’ back in that rain before I hafta.” The man chuckles, brushing wet hair from his face. There are loose, shaky stitches right at his hairline, holding a cut together, rimmed by angry red skin. Finn almost flinches.

He nods and grabs a mug. “What’s the name for the order?” He asks with a polite smile. It’s a formality more than anything else; the shop is empty save for the man standing at the counter dripping onto the hardwood floor. It might also be due to the hammering in Finn’s chest that he asks. 

The man laughs and looks around the empty shop. “Name’s Dean. What about you, Sugar?” He asks. Finn notices that his voice sounds like gravel slipping off his tongue, sun hot and whiskey sharp. There’s a healing split in his upper lip.

Finn blushes hard for a moment. “Finn.” He says finally, fiddling with his nametag. The man grins and nods, almost like he’s weighing the name in his head. Then he leaves the counter, flopping down into one of the beanbags settled at the edge of the room. He pulls out a phone, cracked and probably a few years old, and begins typing something.

Finn sets out to make his order, moving around behind the counter with practiced ease. He picks the least-chipped mug he can find and the pretty saucer they usually reserve for the high spenders that occasionally come through. He racks his brain for every espresso drink he knows and settles on making a doppio ristretto. He fills the cup and makes sure to avoid spilling a drop.

“Dean, your coffee’s ready.” He says lightly, breaking the taller man out of his stupor. He grins, teeth sharp in the low light, and raises to his feet in a motion that’s both fluid and clumsy. His steps are languid as he walks to the counter, his left shoulder rolling easily. 

Finn tells him his total and watches Dean’s fingers, long and thin, dip into his wallet. He fishes out a credit card that’s starting to peel, and Finn tries to ignore the way their fingers brush. He hands the card back, and Dean gives him a private smile. He hesitates for a moment, looks into the depths of his wallet, and grabs a 5 dollar bill.

“Keep the change, Sugar.” He says with a wink. Finn blushes bright red, and then he’s gone.   



	2. Chapter 2

Dean becomes a regular customer. 

He comes in at weird times, never consistently, but he’s in enough that Finn has his order memorized and that he knows Bayley well enough to earn free treats from her. He stops by at least once a week and takes over one of the beanbags, drags it into the corner so he can read or work on the beat up laptop he sometimes brings with him.

Finn learns he’s a brawler in shady underground fights. Finn’s heard of them, of the wrestling matches with seemingly no rules, of matches filled with blood and broken glass and forks. He’s never gone to any of the shows, but he’s curious. Dean explains that’s where he gets the wounds he always seems to come in with, the split knuckles, stitches, cuts, scrapes, bruises, the dried blood drying in his beard that never seems to go away.

He gets another regular around the same time.

He comes in one day not like a storm but like a forest fire. He drags the blossoming summer heat with him, pulls it in through the doors as he strides in like he owns the damn place. The man isn’t terribly tall, but he still towers over Finn. He’s got a soft sort of strength to him, gentle muscles hidden under impeccably tailored suits. He always wears sunglasses, and he always has his hair slicked back.

He’s kinda of an asshole, to be completely honest. He comes in the first time, a haughty air floating around him and making it hard to breathe. He orders the most ridiculous drink Finn’s ever heard of. The man makes him remake the drink three times before he pays, and he only pays for the drink he takes. By the time Finn’s done with him, his blood is boiling and he has to take a break from working the counter before he deals with anyone else.

The man comes in a few times, and every time he orders, he says his name is  _ Miz _ . The fucking asshole.

Finn’s opinion changes after three weeks. 

Miz comes in one day, later than usual, and Finn almost doesn’t recognize him. He’s wearing a t-shirt that fits loose in the shoulders and a pair of torn jeans that hang off his hips. Instead of leather shoes more expensive than Finn’s apartment, he’s wearing ratty converse that are mudstained and starting to fall apart. His hair isn’t slicked back, instead falling into blue eyes unimpeded by shades. He looks tired and worn down and Finn almost feels bad.

He trudges over, feet dragging, shoulders hunched. He seems like he’s been pushed to his limit and then some. Finn notices the little red hint to his nose. “Can you please get me something that has a lot of caffeine but doesn’t taste like coffee?” He asks, voice nasally. His nose seems to be stuffy, and his eyes are red-rimmed and watery. Finn nods and grabs a mug and asks, “What’s the name for the order?” He asks mostly out of habit, but also because he’s interested to see if the man will give him a valid name.

“Mike.” He groans, nodding as Finn gestures for him to sit down. He does, and Finn files the name away from later. Finn sets about, making a chai latte. He adds extra milk and a little extra sugar because he remembers that Miz- _ Mike _ likes his coffee sweet. He grabs a chocolate chip cookie from the display case and sets it on the saucer beneath the mug.

Instead of calling his name and making him walk, Finn carefully carries the coffee over to Mike. Mike’s curled in on himself in one of the overstuffed chairs, head tilted back as he stares at the ceiling, half conscious. He looks miserable, like he’s almost dreading being alive.

Finn taps him on the shoulder and gingerly hands him the mug and cookie. “It’s on the house. Feel better soon.” He says, fighting back the urge to smooth Mike’s drooping hair from his forehead.

He keeps and eye on Mike, and the latte seems to help perk him up a little.


	3. Chapter 3

Another regular starts coming by.

He comes in on a fairly busy day, but he draws Finn’s attention better than the other customers could. It’s not just because of his size, either; the man’s tall, broad, muscled in a way that makes Finn’s mouth water. Long dark hair cascades past his shoulders, covering the top of an intricate Polynesian tribal tattoo that winds down his left arm, as well as a goatee framed with stubble. He wears comfortable clothes, t-shirts that fit tight in the shoulders and jeans that hug muscular thighs. 

He waits in line for what seems like an eternity, and then he’s at the counter. He gives Finn a kind smile, all dazzling white teeth and wide lips and just a hint of tongue visible. Suddenly, the room feels ten degrees warmer and the steel blue polo Finn’s wearing feels much too tight. He tugs at the collar and says, “Welcome to the Coffee Club, may I take your order?”

The man smiles and speaks.

“Yeah, I’ll have whatever non-coffee drink you recommend.” He says, tapping his wallet against his palm. His voice is low and rich, like honey, like chocolate, like wine rolling over a smooth tongue. Finn’s brain malfunctions for a second. 

“For here or to go?” He asks, getting ready to grab the cups.

“Uh, for here, please. The name for the order is Roman.”

Finn nods and grabs a red mug. He makes a quick white hot chocolate and sprinkles a dash of hazelnut and cinnamon across the whipped cream over top. He puts one of Bayley’s homemade biscotti stirrers on the side of the saucer and brings it over. “Order for Roman!”

Roman grins and bring the cup to his nose. “Smells good. What is it?” He asks, taking a delicate sip. When he lowers the cup, he has a smear of whipped cream across his upper lip and the bristle of his facial hair. Finn blushes.

“It’s white hot chocolate with hazelnut and cinnamon. You have something…” Finn trials off, gesturing to his upper lip.

Roman swipes his finger, but misses the majority of the whipped cream. “Did I get it?” He asks, examining his finger.

Finn shakes his head. He blushes and raises his hand tentatively. “Can I?” He asks, reaching half way across the counter.

Roman nods and leans forwards a little. Finn closes the gap, dragging the pad of his thumb along the curve of Roman’s upper lip. The taller man...he doesn’t shiver, but it’s close, a little shudder of relaxation running down his spine.

Finn contemplates sucking the whipped cream off his finger, but decides that’s much too far and wipes it on his apron instead. He tells Roman his total and tries to ignore the waver in his voice. Roman pays and stuffs a 10 into the tip jar.

If Finn happens to have given Roman a discount, well, that’s neither here nor there.   



	4. Chapter 4

The next regular he gets is simultaneously down to Earth and the biggest fucking snob Finn’s ever met.

He looks fairly unremarkable. He has long dark hair wrapped in a low bun pressed to the base of his skull. He’s wearing a black t-shirt for a band Finn doesn’t know, as well as jeans tight as sin and combat boots that seem to fit a little big. When he brushes a few flyaways from his eyes, Finn sees a tattoo on the man’s right wrist. His left arm is covered, and as he walks, his shirt shifts to reveal more tattoos on the strip of skin above his waistband.

Finn’s mouth goes dry when he walks over, the muscles of his arms visible, the hard lines of his thighs apparent through his skin tight jeans. Finn can’t take much time to appreciate the man’s good looks because he gets to the counter and opens his fucking mouth.

His voice isn’t anything remarkable. It’s a little low, a little nasally, holds some semblance of a midwestern accent. That’s not what infuriates Finn. What infuriates him is what this dude orders in the middle of a busy day.

He orders a quad nonfat one pump no whip soy mochaccino with no whipped cream and extra chocolate drizzle.

Finn’s brain temporarily malfunctions upon hearing the order. He stares blankly at the to go cup in his hand and tries to process it. Eventually he does, and he almost calls Anderson up to deal with the order. He doesn’t though, and with a twitch to his jaw he asks the man’s name.

Seth.

Seth has just made Finn’s shitlist.   



	5. Chapter 5

Finn settles into a rhythm.

Roman comes in every Wednesday during the early morning rush, sometimes with little bags of candies from his store. He’s a confectioner at the candy shop a few blocks from the coffee shop. Finn isn’t ashamed to admit that the sweets Roman brings have ruined his diet. The gum drops are especially good.

Mike comes in randomly at weird times, either too early to be fully awake or just late enough to have the hint of exhaustion peeling at his carefully slicked edges. He sometimes sits at the counter with Finn and complains about issues sprouting out of nowhere as he works for upcoming fashion shows. It’s nice, and Finn learns that Mike is a fan of Bayley’s homemade biscotti.

Dean comes by after his fights, fresh stitches and the smell of dried blood and day old antiseptic crowding the smell of his leather jacket. He never seems bothered, though, and he always has a deep dimpled smile that spreads to everyone behind the counter. He sits and chats if he can, sipping his coffee and downing cookies like it’s all he needs to survive. He never stops calling Finn “sugar,” and he never calls anyone else that.

Seth becomes a regular and eventually, he weasels his way onto Finn’s list of favorite customers. Every time he comes in, he orders something more ludicrous than the last time. Finn learns to tolerate it, and learns that Seth is the head artist at the tattoo shop downtown. He can smooth talk like no other and always manages to get fresh baked pastries out of Bayley. He opens up like a flower blooming in spring whenever he mentions music, and there’s something that stirs in Finn’s chest as he rambles on about concerts of obscure metal bands Finn’s never dreamt of hearing of.

It’s become comfortable in a way Finn never really knew he could be.   



	6. Chapter 6

It all comes to a head much sooner than he would like.

Finn has the day off, for once. He never likes taking time off even though he easily can, but Bayley and Jeff manage to talk him into it. They drag him to the pizza shop downtown that Bayley’s girlfriend Carmella runs. He isn’t a fan of eating there since the pizza is greasier than the donuts Bayley fries every summer for the fourth of July. Still, he wants to spend time with his friends and they won’t let him weasel his way out of it. He manages to convince Mella to make him a salad, and he doesn’t fight when she slips some chicken in for extra protein.

“So,” Bayley starts, carefully picking up the slice of pizza in front of her. She takes a bite, and Finn tries to ignore the grease that runs down her chin and oozes from the cheese that refuses to break even when her teeth threaten to sever it. “You really like these guys, huh.”

He blanches before blushing something fierce, trying to get a specific cranberry from the depths of his salad. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” He mumbles, taking a long pull from his water glass.

Jeff laughs. “Please. Whenever I’m in there, I can always count on you at least  _ mentionin’ _ one of them like they hung the stars in the sky. You’re always such a stickler for everyone payin’ for everythin’ they get, but these boys always seem to leave with discounted coffee or free treats.” He says, carefully picking at a piece of pepperoni starting to melt to his plate.

Finn’s blush gets even deeper at the accusation. “They do not!”

Bayley holds up her fingers and counts off on them. “Dean got three free cookies, Roman always gets a huge discount on his hot chocolates, Seth gets free pastries, and yesterday Mike left with an entire box of biscotti.  _ We don’t even sell the biscotti _ , Finn.” She says, looking at him with playfully narrowed eyes.

“This is just how Bayley was when she and Mella first started datin’. This is how Matt was with Bray, and how Ember was with Asuka when she first started comin’ around.” Jeff adds, and Finn can’t refute that. He’s entirely right; whenever one of their employees gets a new significant other or a crush, discounts go through the roof. Finn almost shudders when he remembers how bad it was when Anderson and his wife started dating.

“You should ask them out.” Bayley says through a mouthful of shitty pizza. She swallows before continuing. “I mean, what harm would it do?”

“Bayley, I don’t even know if they’re all single. And besides, going on a date with  _ all _ of them? That’s a lot.” He says meekly, angrily spearing a piece of chicken. He chews aggressively, ignoring the emotions pooling in his stomach.

“Ok, then pick one or two first. You really seem to like Dean and Roman especially. Your eyes light up like Edge’s do when Christian hangs around.” Jeff says with a smile, picking a piece of chicken out of Finn’s half eaten salad.

“And whenever Dean calls you Sugar you blush like you’ve never been hit on before.” Bayley adds, nudging Finn’s shin with her foot. He blushes. “Just like that!”

He sighs and puts down his fork. “Fine. How in the seven hells am I going to ask them out? They probably aren’t even single.” Finn grouses, thumping his head down onto the table.

Bayley smiles conspiratorally at Jeff. “I think we got that covered.”

As much as Finn loves his friends, he can;t help the dread that settles in his stomach at that.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tonyknees on Tumblr! Hit me up!


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